Blue Mountain Lake

Lisa writes: Tom's family goes to a lake in the Adirondacks every summer. This tradition goes back about 100 years. Until the 50s, the family had their own camp: a collection of split-log one-room buildings, lean-tos, an ice house, and a privy. During WWII, when all the men were overseas or too young or too old, the camp fell into disrepair and was finally sold. During our trip last week, we rented a boat and went to go find it. It's still there. The ice house, privy, and one of the lean-tos are gone, but the rest of the place is still there and looks like it is well-used by a family with a lot of kids. (No one was home when we arrived. I collected a bunch of pine cones from the property and found a big frog.)

Tom has come up to these lakes nearly every summer of his life, and every rock and tree and chipmunk holds special meaning and memories for him. I am a Western girl, and the allure of the Adirondacks is only slowly growing on me. Loons and otters and canoeing? Thumbs up. Mosquitoes and humidity and slimey lake bottoms? Thumbs down. Here we are on the boat on the way back from camp. This is nice. (I left the big frog at the camp.)

And here's this year's gang after breakfast. Not everybody makes it every year. No little kids came this year. The littlest kid in the red shirt is five inches taller than I am. (I told the kid in the red shirt to kiss the frog before I let it go. It might turn into a price. She did it! It didn't.)

All pictures taken by my niece, J.